Undercover to Under the Covers
by LoveHGSS
Summary: Hotch and Emily are undercover not long after Emily is back with the BAU. Will this be the thing that finally makes them talk about their could-have-been past? Story for SussiRay! Rated for sexiness and later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

Hotch and Emily are undercover not long after Emily is back with the BAU. Will this be the thing that finally makes them talk about their could-have-been past? Story for Sussiray! Rated for sexiness and later chapters.

This is a story for SussiRay, who gave me the prompt 'undercover'. If you haven't read her stuff, you're _really _missing out!

**Warning – 18 and over **_**only**_** please. Sexual content. Light cursing.**

_It's just a job, it's just a job, it's just a job._

Those were the words Emily Prentiss kept repeating to herself in the dressing room, trying not to grimace at her reflection as she applied heavy black eyeliner underneath each eye before topping it off with dark blue eye shadow and fire engine red lipstick. She slid her hand beneath the nearly see-through red corset, perking up each breast until she was sure they would spill out of the ridiculously tight garment. She pulled at a dark curl, trying to loosen it so it matched the rest around her head, her lips pursing in disapproval when it didn't do what she wanted.

"Damn," she muttered, fussing with the one curl until it finally submitted to her persistent pulling.

Emily gave her reflection a pleased smile, but it quickly faded when she looked at the rest of her outfit – a tight black miniskirt, a pair of black fishnet stockings, and five-inch stilettos to finish off the look. She applied a small amount of gloss over her lipstick, pressing her lips together and then using a napkin to wipe off the excess. Yanking at the skirt, she got it to where it wasn't cutting into her hips, and finally decided she should probably go wait her turn backstage. One of the girls was waiting for her outside the room, her eyes glassy and her nose red, but she was still with it enough to give Emily an easy smile before grabbing her wrist and dragging her into a dimly lit area. Nerves took over as she silently greeted the three other women, small smiles being passed between them.

"Quite the crowd tonight," one said quietly, peeking out through a black curtain. "Come have a look, Tina."

It took Emily a moment to realize that the blonde was talking to her. "Oh, sure."

"Probably nothing compared to your last gig, huh?" she asked, her voice friendly but her eyes clearly jealous.

Emily shrugged, not really knowing how to respond. Instead, she slipped past the shorter woman, tilting her head to look out into the dark club. There were a few dozen people, small groups at tables, others at the bar or lurking in a dark corner. _One of them is our UNSUB_, she thought, a small shudder running down her spine.

"Nervous, sweetheart?" the glassy-eyed one slurred. "S'okay, don't worry. You're smokin', baby; they'll love you even if you ain't so good."

"Thanks," Emily muttered, still scanning the club, starting with the backmost corner, trying to commit every face to memory.

She saved the best for last, the face that instantly quelled her nerves, yet made her heart flutter at the same time. A small wave of irritation floated through her, but she ignored it, knowing that there was no point. Ever since she had come back to the team, they had treated her differently. It had been six months since Ian Doyle had been murdered, but only two since Emily had been back on the team. Half the time she felt overprotected, like there was never a second of the day someone wasn't right behind her. The other half of the time, she felt as if they resented her, like they could barely even stand looking at her. She didn't blame them for how they acted, not even a little. She didn't complain or whine, never asked them to leave her alone or to just talk to her how they used to.

And then came the assignment she swore Hotch took just to spite her.

He had called her into his office a week ago, asking her to close the door and have a seat. He'd explained that there were five people murdered within a six day period, and the only way that they'd be able to intervene quickly was to have an agent undercover. He'd used the excuse that all the other teams with females were on cases or on hiatus, leaving it up to Emily. She'd argued that Seaver was a female, but Hotch had just shook his head and said it was dark haired women he was preying upon. As much as she wanted to ask why Seaver couldn't wear a wig, she kept her mouth shut and nodded, waiting for him to give further instructions.

Hotch had told her that because the local PD hadn't been able to catch him, no matter how many stakeouts they had attempted, the BAU was to step in immediately. Even through the nitty and gritty parts of the assignment, Hotch never showed emotion, his face not giving away how he had truly felt while explaining in detail how it was going to be played out. That was what bothered her the most. She tried to stay just as emotionless, but she couldn't hide her shock when he explained exactly _how _they were going to grab his attention. He had given Emily three days to learn a routine, to be trained in an art that she had never imagined herself doing.

Loud music filled her eardrums, pulling her out of her memories, and she stepped away from the curtain as if burned. The blonde snickered and flipped her hair, sweeping past Emily without apologizing when they knocked shoulders. She didn't watch the other girls on stage, knowing her nervous stomach wouldn't be able to handle it if she thought too much about what she was actually planning to do. One of the girls tried to make small talk while she waited her turn, but Emily didn't have much to say. Taking her lack of response as rudeness, the girl finally pursed her lips and just walked away to talk to the one who was stumbling about a few feet away.

It seemed like each girl took hours and hours, but once the last girl disappeared behind the curtain, time sped up to an extreme. It felt like only seconds before the girl came back, sweaty and panting, her arm over her naked breasts. She grabbed a white robe that was hanging near the curtain, giving Emily a friendly wink before sauntering off, covering up as she made her way back down the hall toward the dressing room. Emily thought about following her. Her palms began to sweat, her stomach rolling and she instantly regretted the club sandwich she had eaten for dinner. But she didn't have time to think about that.

"Show time," she muttered sardonically, taking one last deep breath before the first beat of the familiar song rang out through the club. Plastering on a sultry grin, she pushed through the curtain, letting her mind go blank in order to focus on nothing but the music.

**O.o.O.o.O.o**

Aaron Hotchner watched as girl after girl came on stage, some slow seductive song blaring out of the speakers for them to dance to. The first two didn't do anything for him, one too blonde and fake looking, the other stumbling around like she'd snorted one too many lines and taken down a few too many shots before wobbling out onto the stage. The third was a little better, but he'd never been attracted to girls with pink hair. By the fourth dancer, he had given up hope on even enjoying the show. Sure, her breasts were good-sized and her body was curvy, but for some reason he wasn't even a little turned on while she took all but her garters and heels off. Maybe a slight twitch, a very low jolt now and again when she'd slide up and down the pole, but it wasn't enough to get him hard.

But then _she_ slinked onto the stage. He could only compare her movements to that of a cat, fluid and graceful. She looked as though she were walking on air, her heels not even making that annoying clicking sound as the second and third dancers had. He drank her in, starting with her hair and burning a trail all the way down to her toes. He suddenly found his dress pants extremely tight in the crotch. Hotch shifted in his seat, trying to get comfortable, but it was useless. He was rock hard just from a quick onceover, and she hadn't even started her routine.

"I'm doomed," he muttered to himself, trying but failing to tear his eyes away from her hips, which had begun swaying in time with the music.

He watched with keen interest as Emily smoothed her hands over her hair, sensually running them over her breasts that were bursting from her top. His breathing was labored as her fingers teased the hem of her corset, allowing the audience to see just a sliver of her pale hipbones and flat stomach. A man whistled from the table next to his, and Hotch had a sudden urge to reach over and slug the man who had obviously drank too much, but he reminded himself _why_ they were there. He focused back on Emily just in time to watch her sliding her hands up and down her fishnet-covered thighs, the bottom of her skirt rising dangerously close to areas of her body Hotch had only fantasized about.

"Gentlemen," a deep male voice sounded over the music while Emily leaned against the metal pole in the middle of the stage, grinding her ass against it before dropping down into a crouching position only to quickly slide back up, "this is Teasin' Tina, our new lap dance girl!"

Hoots, hollers, and applause deafened the club, and Hotch watched in disgust as men began waving large bills in the air, a clear invitation. Emily turned, her back to the crowd, her hands wrapping around the pole. They all watched with open mouths as Emily hiked one leg up, hooking it around the pole and doing a full spin, landing back where she had started before grinding up and down on it. Hotch had never been more jealous of an inanimate object in his life, and he wasn't alone in that. Men started calling to her, openly begging to 'break her in', as one man shouted.

"Only one lucky man will have this lovely lady tonight," continued the voice over the speakers. "Tina, pick your man!"

Emily shot a look over her shoulder that had Hotch gasping for breath, the sheer seductiveness of her gaze as she scanned the crowd almost enough to have him lose his composure and bombard her while she was on the stage. Apparently, another had the same idea but was too drunk to stay inactive. Before Hotch had a chance to even stand, a bouncer had the man who was fast approaching the stage by the arm, dragging him in the direction of the door. He saw a slight flicker of uncertainty cross Emily's features but as soon as he had registered it, it was gone.

Even though he knew how it was supposed to go, he became nervous as Emily slowly walked to the side of the stage and down the stairs. She was convincing to say the least, using just the tips of her red-painted nails to stroke a few random men's faces before moving onto the next. Finally, she reached Hotch in the center of the room, seated in one of the many black velvet cushioned armchairs. She purred loud enough for the men around them to hear, and Hotch nearly choked. She circled him like prey, her hand trailing along the back of his shoulders before she decided to go onto the next part of her routine.

Their eyes locked and tension filled the space between them, making the club feel suddenly small and stifling. He raised an eyebrow after a moment of her just staring at him, and she pursed her lips, seeing the challenge clear in his eyes. She put her hands on his shoulders, using them to balance herself as she put her knees to either side of him. The room disappeared the second she straddled him, sitting as high on her knees as she could, letting the least amount of her body touch his.

"Jesus," he breathed as she threw her head back and pressed her breasts against his face, just as they had planned.

"Enjoying the show?" she asked with a slight chuckle, surprised but happy to watch her usually composed boss gradually losing his self-control.

Hotch licked his lips after the supple flesh of her breasts skimmed his face a few times, not able to even remember his name, let alone what the next step in their plan was. Her hands searched his chest, her nails skimming along his white dress shirt, trying to silently tell him what was supposed to happen next. She breathed a sigh of relief when she felt his large hands start at her ankles before slowly working up her calves to her knees, pausing for a moment before going back the way he came. Emily groaned in frustration, but decided to get even instead. She leaned back further, her breasts only centimeters away from his face.

"I don't think you're supposed to touch," she said purposefully loud as his hands roamed her legs, finally cresting over her knees and flying up her thighs, coming to rest on her hips.

"I don't give a damn," he grumbled, his fingers digging in, his face burying into the soft flesh of her cleavage, his mouth open and his tongue curious.

"A-Aaron," she stuttered, the name sounding foreign to her, but she was ultimately pleased that she had remembered they had agreed to use his first name.

He didn't reply, his lips too busy drawing in her skin. He had a sudden urge to mark her pale skin, to show everyone in the club that she was _his_ and no one else's. His teeth sunk in hard enough to leave a mark and he sucked on a large piece of her breast, determined. Her fingers yanked at his hair, pulling it but not enough to tell him he needed to stop, so he didn't. She sat lower on him, their groins only inches apart. She could feel the heat pooling between her legs and she needed to know he was feeling the same, that it wasn't just an act to him.

Closing the little space between them, she sank down onto his lap, her breath catching in her throat when she felt him hard against her. Her sex throbbed and she experimentally rolled her hips. She smirked when he groaned, his mouth falling open, releasing the skin he had been so intent on. He dug his fingers in roughly, groaning in frustration when she continued to rock back and forth against him, her delectable breasts bouncing up and down. His hips rose slightly, wanting to feel her closer, and he groaned lowly when she moaned, throwing her head back further and rolling her hips. Just when he thought he may lose it altogether, she suddenly leaned forward, her torso pressing into his, her hair falling into his face as she put her cheek against his, her lips right by his ear.

"Is that a Glock in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?" she asked with a low chuckle.

"Both," he gasped out when she began moving against him faster.

His eyes shot open when he felt her movements halt, but she quickly regained composure and restarted her routine, a stiffness replacing her previous fluidity. Before he had a chance to ask her what was wrong, she scooted out of his lap and stood before him. He gave her a questioning look but she just stared lustfully at him, but he knew it was only a halfhearted look. She turned so her back was facing him and he admired the curves of her torso to her perfectly plump ass, which was peeking out from beneath her tight black miniskirt. He watched in disbelief as Emily widened her stance and backed up until her legs were either side of his. She bent at the knees, slowly lowering herself until she was once again seated in his lap, her ass grinding against him, her hands reaching back to pull him closer.

"What are you doing?" he asked gruffly, not sure what to do.

"Livening up the show a little, Aaron," she said shortly, waiting until he put his face into her neck before reaching for his hands.

Hotch whimpered as she placed his hands on her legs, guiding them to rub up and down her thighs, coming close to the apex of them with every pass. He felt his wrists twitch with anticipation, his fingertips tingling, wanting nothing more than to shove his hands beneath her skirt and feel every piece of her, to see if she was as wet as he was hard. Just as he was about take control of their hands, she moved them, barely allowing him to feel the flatness of her stomach before she boldly placed them on her breasts, curling her fingers against his hand, forcing him to squeeze. A low sound left her throat and she moved against him faster, letting her head fall back to rest on his shoulder, his breath hot and moist on her neck.

Emily tried to ignore the feel of his toned body against hers, to block out any and all feelings that were just begging to be explored. The simple joke that they had shared had jarred her back to reality, cruelly reminding her that he was in fact undercover with her, nothing more. One part of her mind screamed there was more, it was a proven fact, but she ignored it, wanting nothing other than the whole thing to be over with. She closed her eyes and listened to the music, disregarding Hotch's hands, which were doing things to her breasts that should have been outlawed in at least thirty states.

Thankfully there was only a few agonizing seconds left of the song, and she sprang from his lap the moment it was over, not even bothering to look back over her shoulder at him as she hurried to the back, not even going through the curtain for a robe. Emily practically ran to the dressing room once she knew the crowd couldn't see her, not even noticing the uproar of applause and shouts of the room she had just left. The other girls were already gone when she reached her destination, for which she was happy about. She fumed, roughly slamming down random makeup items as she wiggled out of her clothes, replacing them with a sexy black tank top and a pair of cut off shorts, not paying attention to how she was putting them on.

After she had left, Hotch sat there for a good five minutes without moving, more confused and turned on than he could ever remember being. It had been a hard reality check when he'd heard other people in the room, having forgotten about them only seconds after Emily had begun her lap dance. He got up from his chair, fully intending on going to talk to Emily, but then remembered _why_ they were there in the first place. Not knowing what else to do, he went to the bathroom, ignoring the many jealous looks of the men he was passing. He sighed loudly once he entered the empty men's room, knowing he was going to have to sit down and have a serious talk with Emily, but he just didn't know how to. He turned on the faucet, splashing cold water on his face, trying his best to erase the images of her grinding against him. He grabbed a paper towel, slowly drying his hands, when all of a sudden a string of loud voices was blaring in his left ear:

"He's going after Emily!"

"I got him!"

"He's running!"

"HE'S GOT A GUN!"

_BAM_!

_A/N – Thank you for reading! Please take just a moment out to review; I really love knowing what you think!_


	2. Chapter 2

Hotch and Emily are undercover not long after Emily is back with the BAU. Will this be the thing that finally makes them talk about their could-have-been past? Story for SussiRay! Rated for sexiness and later chapters.

This is a story for SussiRay, who gave me the prompt 'undercover'. If you haven't read her stuff, you're _really _missing out!

**Warning – 18 and over **_**only**_** please. Sexual content. Light cursing.**

It all happened so fast that Hotch barely had time to take a breath, let alone understand all of what was going on. He suddenly remembered the small earpiece nestled into his left ear, and it all came rushing back. They were on a case. He and Emily had played parts, and he had just let her walk away without protecting her from the bad guy. She must have jumped ahead, not bothering to wait the allotted fifteen minutes to meet him outside. He hadn't radioed to let the team know they were done, to be on the lookout for Emily or the UNSUB. Reality hit him like the worst nightmare and Hotch forgot about anything in the world but the fact that he might have just gotten Emily Prentiss murdered.

"Emily," he whispered, throwing the paper towel on the ground and running out of the bathroom, bashing someone in the face with the door, but he didn't stop. He ran full speed outside, lights flashing at the end of the parking lot, drawing his attention. He turned in what felt like slow motion, his heart pounding loud in his ears, his vision clouding for a moment, making him feel as though he were about to faint. He shook his head to clear it, though, needing to know what was happening. His long legs carried him there quickly, and he searched through the mob of people crowding a ten-foot section of the parking lot.

"Emily!" he called, scanning each face, trying to find one he recognized. "Emily!" He pushed people out of his way, not bothering to apologize to any of them. "_Emily_! _EMILY_!"

Panic began to grip him, his entire body coated in a cold dread, his breathing becoming short and shallow. But then finally, _finally_, he heard the most beautiful sound in the world.

"Hotch! Over here!"

He pushed through the crowd of people toward the voice, needing to see her face before he allowed himself to relax. She came running toward him, people moving out of her way when she shouted his name again. Without thinking, he jogged to her, putting his arms around her middle and lifting her off her feet in a crushing hug, a large whoosh of air leaving her as he spun her in a circle. With her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, her eyes closing, she finally let the events of the past few hours sink in, knowing it wouldn't be so scary with his strong arms around her.

"I'm so sorry, Emily," he whispered, placing her back on her feet, but not releasing her.

"No, I'm sorry," she said, leaning some of her weight against him, needing him to hold her up, to know that he was there to help pick up the pieces of what she was sure was going to be a hard, emotional fall when everything _really_ sunk in. "I came out here without even thinking and he popped out of nowhere and…"

"He tried to kill you," Hotch breathed. "He… I could have… I can't believe I just let you walk away!"

"It's okay," she assured him, her hand smoothing over the back of his short, soft hair. "I shouldn't have left without you. I was stupid, Hotch, not you. If one of the officers hadn't fired when he did, I don't know what would have happened. I'm such an idiot."

"We'll just have to agree to disagree," he murmured, burying his face into her neck, greedily inhaling the scent of her hair. It tickled his nose, the smell of hairspray still strong, but he didn't dare move anywhere but closer.

"I suppose we will," she sighed, resting her forehead against his chest, her hands gently stroking the back of his neck, trying to calm him when she felt his heartbeat racing. "I'm sorry."

He chuckled lowly. "Stop apologizing, Emily."

Hotch squeezed her and she responded in kind, turning her head so her face was in his neck and she wrapped her arms around him more firmly. One of his hands made a slow trail up her back until he found her mass of curls. It was an awkward position, but neither complained nor pulled away when he raked his hand into her hair. She sighed and relaxed against him further when he began flexing his fingers, the tips of them gently massaging her scalp.

"You're so good at that," she whispered, her warm breath fanning across his skin, causing a small shiver to race down his spine.

"So good at what?" he asked, his fingers still moving within her hair.

"Calming me," she replied, her eyes falling shut, her mind staying blissfully blank courtesy of his hand and manly scent. "It was one of the main reasons I had…"

Emily trailed off, stiffening slightly within his tight embrace. He felt her closing off, and he swore he could almost see that wall she kept up so firmly being replaced and renewed with a higher, thicker one. He pictured her eyes were open and scared, just like the day she had come back to the BAU. The team had agreed to give her space, to let her come to them, but she never did. She was withdrawn, not quite the same vibrant Emily they had all grown to know and love. He had thought he was finally getting her back, and he knew if he didn't do everything within his power at the moment, he was sure he would lose her for good.

"Finish your sentence," he pleaded. "I'd like to know."

Emily cleared her throat. "It doesn't matter."

"It matters to me," he said.

She sighed, defeated. When Hotch felt Emily wriggling out from his embrace, he almost held on, but decided to let her control the situation. She pulled away from him, feeling instantly worse after there wasn't any part of his body touching any part of hers, but she held strong. She looked at him, holding his eyes for a long moment before she finally mustered enough courage.

"It was one of the many reasons I had agreed to go to dinner with you before the whole Doyle thing happened," she said, her eyes shifting in her sockets, trying to get a read on his, but she found nothing. "Why are you always so damn cold, Aaron Hotchner? Just for a second, can't you show an emotion other than whatever it is you call that look?"

Baffled, Hotch took a step back from her.

"Of course!" she cried, throwing her arms up in defeat. "Surprised is one of three emotions you wear, Hotch. Normal, surprised, and that sweet look you get when seeing children that remind you of Jack. That's it! I get _nothing_ but the occasional look of desire when I shove my boobs in your face – or was that just an act?"

"Emily," he said loudly, cutting her off before she could say anything else. "Stop!"

She ignored him. "I just got attacked, Hotch, and you might have hugged me, might have apologized, but you don't _look_ at me like you did before I left!" she yelled, drawing the attention of quite a few people around them. "You don't smile at me, you just look at me like I'm no longer that girl you once told she was your best friend! You don't tell me I make your heart race, you don't say how badly you've wanted to go on a date with me, you don't tell me that I am everything you've wanted for years but were too afraid to go after anymore! What happened, Hotch? Huh? When I was sent away did you just stop caring, stop wanting a potential life with me?"

"Is that what this is about?" he asked, walking toward her, but she just backed away. He watched helplessly as she blinked rapidly, trying to keep her eyes from overflowing with the tears that were swimming within them. "Emily, talk to me about this, please."

"No," she whispered, holding out her hand to stop him from progressing any further. "No, Hotch, I'm not having this conversation with you. I cannot handle hearing you tell me that what we could have had before now means nothing. I'm sorry I said anything. And don't worry, I'll be fine."

With that, she turned and squeezed through the mass of people, making her way to the SUV containing Morgan and Reid. She told them to just go, thankful when they didn't ask for any more details. She knew she would not only be in trouble for leaving a crime scene, but she was also in big trouble with Hotch. She knew she had overreacted, that she'd lashed out because she was scared and felt incomplete without his arms around her. That alone probably scared her more than any UNSUB.

Hotch rubbed his face vigorously, trying to keep the sudden stinging in his eyes from turning to moisture. He glared at the people staring at him, daring them to say a single word; they all instantly looked away. He marched to his SUV parked about fifty feet away, slamming the door behind him as he climbed in. He roughly put his hand into his pocket, pulling out his keys and starting the engine, barely waiting for it to roll over before throwing it into reverse. His tires screeched when he punched the gas, turning on his lights and weaving through traffic, not giving a damn if what he was doing was technically illegal.

Emily didn't say a word when Morgan pulled into the hotel parking garage; she simply closed the car door and walked into the hotel, not looking back to see if the boys were behind her. She didn't have patience for the elevator, so she took four flights of stairs two at a time. Once in her room she went straight to the bathroom, only getting halfway through removing the caked on makeup before her stomach lurched. She dropped to her knees in front of the toilet, her hand pulling her hair back just in time. After the contents of her stomach were emptied, she fell back onto tile floor, hanging her head and taking a few deep breaths. Tears stung her eyes and she felt stupid for having such a physical reaction to something that wouldn't have affected her only a year previous.

Hotch peeled into the parking garage, his tired squealing as he parked, and he barely remembered to lock the SUV before bounding into the hotel lobby. He took the elevator, not thinking clearly enough to consider that the stairs would be faster. Digging through his pockets, he found Emily's room key and made a beeline straight to her room once the doors parted, the thought of changing appealing but too time consuming. Without knocking, he slid the card into the lock, impatiently waiting for it to turn green. Once it did, he barged into the room, his eyes darting from one side of the small space to the other, his eyebrows coming together when he didn't see her.

For the second time that night, panic gripped him and the worst thoughts came to mind. Perhaps they hadn't caught the right man, and he had followed the SUV back here, done things to her that Hotch could easily picture, making his stomach queasy and his hand instantly reach for his gun. He drew it, placing his hands in a familiar way once he'd silently closed the door behind him. He toed off his black shoes, hoping to be quieter, and practically tiptoed to the closet. It was surprisingly noiseless, folding back to one side so he could see only a few garments of Emily's hanging, nothing out of the ordinary. He heard a low, painful moan from the bathroom and all caution went out the window. He ran to the bathroom, ripping open the door, fully prepared for the worst.

"Hotch!" Emily screamed, her hands flying to her chest in surprise.

"Are you alright?" he asked, glancing back over his shoulder.

"I'm fine!" she yelled, sitting up more. "What the hell are you doing?"

He holstered his weapon, feeling a little stupid. He suddenly realized where she was sitting, the putrid smell of what could only be vomit, and he took a deep breath through his mouth as he reached over and flushed the toilet without looking in. Hotch turned on the fan in the bathroom, grabbed a washcloth that was near the sink and ran it under cold water. He ignored her surprised look as he knelt beside her, one hand cradling her head, the other gently rubbing the washcloth across her forehead. She sighed and let him do it, not having the energy to argue. And, if she was honest with herself, it felt pretty damn good.

"How's your stomach?" he asked a moment later.

"Better, thanks. I think it was that club sandwich I ate about half an hour before I went onstage."

He nodded but didn't say anything, just used the washcloth to remove the remaining eye shadow. He could have laughed, could have made a joke about it, but his face was dead serious, which concerned Emily. While his eyes were intent on the washcloth, which was now slowly going up and down her cheek, she studied his face. She frowned when she saw the wrinkles on his forehead had deepened. She knew he had had a hard time while she was gone; JJ had told her _all_ about the late night phone calls, the thousands of questions, the defeat in his voice, the possible depression.

"Are you ok?" she asked, her voice just over a whisper.

"Me?" he asked, surprised. "I'm fine. Are you?"

"JJ told me it was rough for you," she said slowly, knowing she needed to tread carefully.

He nodded slowly, taking the washcloth from her face and sitting down, his back against the cabinets of the sink so he could face her. "It's nothing compared to what you had to go through, Emily."

She sighed and shook her head. "I was still in contact with JJ through a series of disposable cells, but you probably already know that." At his agreeing nod, she continued. "But to have to lie to the people we both love day in and day out, that couldn't have been a walk in the park, Hotch."

"It wasn't," he allowed. "Your safety was all that mattered to me, though. I would do it over again if I had to. The hardest part was not seeing you, not lying. Lying comes with the job of being in the FBI and I think you know that."

Emily felt a stinging in her nose, but kept her composure. "I'm sorry that I hurt you with what I said back at the club."

He cut her off before she had a chance to continue. "Please don't apologize. I know what happened must have rattled you, and even though you were being honest, it just came across wrong. I understand."

Hotch cleared his throat and reached out his hand. It took her a moment, but she placed her hand in his, marveling at the warmth and size of it as he encased her fingers in his own. His thumb stroked the top of her hand but his eyes stayed on her face, watching her looking at their joined hands.

"I missed you," he said, emotional coating his voice. "Not just as my coworker. I wanted to give you space to get back into the swing of things, to feel comfortable being back in the unit and back to life here in the States. I wanted you to get used to not being scared all the time, looking over your shoulder and wondering if he'd be there."

"I missed you, too," she replied, still watching their hands, knowing she would cry if she looked in his eyes. "It just hurt, you know? You were so different with me then compared to how you were when I came back. Did you know that the kiss you and I shared before I left was the thing I'd think about to fall asleep every night? That remembering how it felt to be held by you for even just a little while would make me feel safe enough to be able to close my eyes?"

Hotch didn't have to think to remember the memory, because it was one that he had thought about at least six times a day while she had been gone.

_A/N – Thank you for reading! Next chapter is the memory Hotch and Emily are talking about. Please take just a moment out to review, it would really mean a lot! Thank you!_


	3. Chapter 3

Hotch and Emily are undercover not long after Emily is back with the BAU. Will this be the thing that finally makes them talk about their could-have-been past? Story for SussiRay! Rated for sexiness and later chapters.

This is a story for SussiRay, who gave me the prompt 'undercover'. If you haven't read her stuff, you're _really _missing out!

_**Flashback**_

It had been about two weeks since the team was told she was dead, and Emily was finally stable enough to be moved to her new location. Hotch wasn't told where she'd be moving to, just the time and date. He had tried to be strong, to ignore it, but it happened to fall on the day of the funeral for Emily, and he couldn't _not_ see her. He needed to be sure she was still alive, that she wasn't being placed six feet below the ground as everyone else assumed. He had raced to the secure hospital, flashing his credentials for the eighth time at an elderly nurse before he made it to her room with only forty-five minutes to spare. To say she was surprised was an understatement. He had rushed to her bed, carefully sitting on the edge of it and grabbing her hand.

She looked paler than normal, but overall pretty good. There weren't wires or IV's attached to her, no masks or bandages. Her cheek was a little purple, a small scar standing out against her otherwise perfect face. Emily was dressed plainly in a black t-shirt and a pair of jeans, ready to be moved when the time came. That thought alone gripped Hotch's heart, and he wanted to pick her up, carry her out of the hospital, and lock her in a place where no one could take her away from him. But the reality was that she wasn't safe with him, and it killed him.

"What are you doing here?" she asked harshly, worry clearly etched into her face. "You know you aren't allowed to know where I'm going!"

"I don't," he assured her. "Your funeral was today and I just needed to see you before you left."

The franticness in his voice told her just how much he was going through. "I'm sorry," she whispered, reaching up and stroking his cheek. "I hate that you know. I hate how much it's going to rip you apart."

"You're worth it," he said, grabbing her hand on his face and kissing the inside of her palm. He didn't argue with the fact that it was going to hurt to know she was out there, that the rest of the team thought she was dead, because there was really nothing to deny and he didn't want to lie to her.

"I'm bummed I'm going to miss our dinner," she said lightly, shooting him a smile.

He laughed and shook his head. "You can just repay me by going on two dates with me when you come back."

"I think I can agree to that."

There was a moment of silence, neither sure what to say to the other. Emily finally asked Hotch to tell her what the funeral was like, to give her a quick synopsis of the service and burial. Only a few minutes in, Emily started to cry, and Hotch wondered if he should have left out the piece about Reid breaking down in the middle of Morgan's eulogy. Without thinking, he stood from the bed and told her to move over. Through her tears she did as she was asked, not realizing why he had asked until he laid beside her. His arm carefully went under her shoulders, gently pulling on her until she turned to her side. She wrapped herself around him, her arm going tightly across his stomach, her leg draping over his own. She scooted as close as she could, her face burying into his neck, her tears flowing in streams as he held her tightly with both arms.

"Will you remind Reid just how much I love him?" she hiccupped.

"Shh, Emily, you're going to hurt yourself," he murmured, his eyes closing as he gently stroked her hair and placed a soft kiss on her forehead.

"Promise me you'll tell him," she sobbed.

"Of course I will, sweetheart, of course I will," he said.

She laughed through her tears. "Did you just call me 'sweetheart'?"

"Oh, sorry," he said quickly.

"No, no," she said. "No, really, it's okay. I like it."

"Really?" he asked. "Never pictured you enjoying pet names."

"W-well I typically don't," she stuttered, still sniffling. "It coming from you is nice, though." Emily paused, knowing she had just shoved her foot into her mouth. "I mean it's just that I've never heard you use them for anyone before and I don't know, it's just… different. Makes you sound less like my boss, I guess."

Hotch chuckled and rested his cheek against her forehead. "I understand. But right now, Emily, I am _not_ your boss."

"You're my best friend, right?" she asked with a smile.

"I'd like to think so," he sighed. "You're mine. You know that, right? That you're my best friend?"

Emily fought hard not to cry again, knowing it would make things worse for the both of them. "I know I am. You told me a few weeks ago I was the only one you talk to outside of work other than Rossi."

"And even then, I like you better," he finished for her, smiling at the memory. "You sounded so surprised."

"I still am," she admitted. "And then when you very nervously asked me out on a date."

"I was not nervous," he interjected.

"Bullshit!" she laughed. "It took you twenty minutes to finally make sense! It was sweet, trust me. I wouldn't have been able to say no even if I had wanted to, which I didn't. To hear the big bad boss stuttering and spluttering was just too adorable."

"Me? Adorable?" he scoffed.

Emily giggled. "Yeah, sorry," she sighed, "it's the truth."

"Just don't tell anyone," he muttered, slowly rubbing his cheek against her forehead, enjoying the feel of her skin brushing along his.

"I won't, I promise. I'd prefer to keep it to myself anyway. Makes me feel good to know that you're only like this with me and Jack," she explained.

"This feels good," he said.

Emily hummed her agreement, closing her eyes and nuzzling her face into his neck, inhaling deeply. "I hate we didn't work something out earlier," she breathed.

"It would probably be a lot harder to say goodbye," he reasoned, trying to convince not only her, but himself as well. "Not that this isn't already difficult, but had we invested more time, more emotion…"

Hotch trailed off, realizing he was babbling.

"I'm already invested," she said, almost inaudibly. "I'm sorry if that makes this harder, but I am, Hotch."

"Aaron," he corrected. "Just Aaron."

Emily smiled and slowly rubbed his muscular chest. "Aaron," she said slowly, testing the name. "I could get used to that."

Hotch grinned. "Me too," he sighed. "Me too."

There was a beat of silence, neither knowing what else to say. It was Hotch who spoke first.

"I'm invested, too, Em." His voice was hesitant, as though he were carefully choosing exactly what words to use. "I care very deeply about you, and it's not platonic for me. Not that me asking you on a date didn't make that clear enough, but I need you to know that I'm invested, that I have been for years."

She shifted against him, trying to get even closer than she already was. "For me it was two years ago, when you asked me to help you with Jack's birthday party."

He smiled at the memory of Emily covered in cake batter and frosting, trying so hard to get the cake done before the party while Hotch wrapped presents. "It's a good thing he didn't mind a lopsided cake and unwrapping presents that were more tape than paper."

Emily giggled. "He was so happy," she said, her tone suddenly low and sad. "I'm going to miss him. Have you told him I won't be around anymore?"

"Shh," he soothed, "don't cry again. He doesn't know yet. I… I can't handle telling him his 'Auntie Emmy' isn't… that you won't…"

"Oh, Aaron," she whispered, holding him close as his breath hitched in his throat.

"I'm sorry," he said brokenly. "I tell you not to cry and here I am, being a hypocrite."

Emily forced herself to stay strong for him, to let him mourn for not only losing her but for his son's loss as well. Over the past two years they had all grown close, Emily coming for dinner and to Jack's soccer games whenever possible. Hotch and Jack had needed her to fill that space only a strong woman could, but Emily had needed them, too. She had needed that feel of family, even if there was nothing but friendship between her and Hotch during that time. It wasn't a lot of time, barely a weekend here and there, but it was enough to where Emily would do anything to have just another moment with the child she'd grown to love and adore.

"It's alright," she assured him, unthinkingly placing a soft kiss on his neck.

"I know," he replied with a harsh sniffle.

"You don't have to be so strong all the time, Aaron," she said. "You're allowed to have emotions, too."

"I know," he repeated. "But I can't in front of Jack, in front of the team."

"Yes you can. Of course you can. You're human."

He nodded but didn't argue, knowing she would never fully understand his need to be the leader of all around him. "Thank you, Emily," he said after a long silence.

"For what?" she asked, drawing random patterns along his chest.

"For everything," he replied. "For being you."

Emily smiled. "I could thank you for the same thing, Aaron."

Hotch reluctantly took one arm from around her, his hand shaking as he put his fingers beneath her chin, tilting her face until he could see her clearly. He stared at her for a good five minutes, willing his brain to burn every centimeter of her face to memory. He watched her eyes and her brow change her entire expression from wonderment to a tenderness that he could only recall seeing when she'd look at Jack. His throat constricted and he was hit with the realization at just how much she honestly meant to him.

"I can't wait to see you again," he blurted.

The corners of her mouth tipped into a smile. "And I can't wait for those two dates you now owe me, Aaron Hotchner."

He wasn't sure whether it was the way she looked at him, or the sincerity in her voice, but he tilted her head up further. Emily watched in shock as he sat up just enough to close the space between them, his lips landing squarely on hers. He was hesitant at first, just letting his lips rest against hers, taking in their fullness. Her hand fisted his shirt and she stretched up to kiss him back, firmly pressing her lips against his, letting him know it was more than alright by her. He relaxed against her, a deep breath coming out through his nose. Their lips parted for only a second before he dove back in, more fervently this time.

A small whimper left her as he cradled her bottom lip between both of his, his tongue gently sweeping across it before his teeth drew the soft flesh into his mouth. With her lips still parted, Emily replaced her lip with her tongue, slipping it between his teeth in search of something more. His large hand cupped her jaw, holding her head in place as he responded to her, his tongue sliding against hers before breaking the kiss, only to come back for more. Their noses brushed as Hotch turned his head, once against deepening the kiss. He searched every crevice of her mouth, his tongue gliding along the back of her teeth. She giggled softly and sucked on his tongue, loving the deep groan that left his throat.

Emily's hand finally released his shirt, making a quick trail up to the back of his head, stroking his dark hair as his hand began exploring the soft skin of her upper arm. Hotch slowly made his way down her arm, making random shapes and lines along her ribcage before reaching her hip. His hand lingered there for a few moments while their tongues battled fiercely for dominance. When Emily's nails began scratching his scalp he suddenly found supple flesh hidden by her jeans beneath his palm. He shortly wondered when he had moved to her beautifully rounded backside, but as she nipped his bottom lip, all thought was lost. His hand squeezed her firm right cheek for only a moment before gripping the back of her thigh, drawing her leg higher. Within the length of a breath, she shifted until she was on top of him, his hips scooting away from the edge of the small hospital bed so she could straddle him.

Emily suddenly whimpered, a blinding white light flashing behind her eyes as a harsh stabbing pain spread throughout her stomach. She recoiled, gasping for air, her back hunching as she crossed her arms over her abdomen. Hotch's hands threaded into her hair, quickly guiding her to lie fully on top of him, cradling her head against his broad chest. He shushed her, using one hand to keep her in place and the other to brush through her hair, hoping to relax her.

"Just breathe, Em," he whispered, placing a kiss against the top of her head. "Breathe."

Never one to question him, she inhaled deeply before releasing the large breath, the pain instantly subsiding to a dull ache. "Sorry," she sighed.

Hotch chuckled. "Don't," he murmured, once again pressing his lips against her hair. "Just take a minute, sweetie."

She nodded, closing her eyes and just letting his long fingers comb through her hair, the steadiness of his heartbeat calming her. A wide smile lit her face as he unconsciously began humming, something she had noticed he always automatically did if Jack was upset and Hotch was trying to comfort him. She felt every muscle in her body loosen, every limb becoming like jelly the longer he continued his tender ministrations. Once her breathing was normal and the pain was gone, she placed her hands on his chest, using it as leverage to sit up enough to kiss him again. He smiled against her lips when her tongue glided along his bottom lip. He allowed her to deepen the kiss, sighing happily as he languidly tasted her mouth.

"Oh, shit!"

Hotch and Emily's heads whipped toward the door, which they hadn't even heard being opened. JJ stood there with her hands over her eyes, bumping into the doorframe as she backed up.

"I'm sorry!" she called, trying to exit the room, but not quite making it through the door. "Shit. Seriously, Hotch, Emily, I didn't realize… I didn't know that… I mean… Oh, shit. I'm sorry!"

Hotch couldn't hold in the snort of laughter that bubbled in his throat as JJ finally just turned around and ran out the door, yelling something about only having five minutes before the door locked back in place. Emily giggled like a teenager, leaning back down and allowing Hotch to wrap his arms around her as they laughed.

"That wasn't embarrassing," he said after a moment.

"I felt like I was caught by my mom."

"I might have preferred that." Hotch grunted when Emily smacked in the chest. "What? It's the truth."

She rolled her eyes and snuggled against him, shifting until she was comfortable, the sexual tension faded immediately with the reminder of what was to be happening in the next few minutes. Hotch ran his fingers through her hair and made wide circles on her back, his hands constantly moving in order to keep Emily from realizing how badly they were shaking. She nuzzled her cheek against his chest, breathing in his manly scent as her hand slinked up to his face, her fingers blindly tracing his features. He turned his head and rested it against the top of hers, allowing her to continue with her exploration of his face. Their eyes slid shut in tandem, each knowing this was the last time they'd be able to be in the other's presence for a presumably long time.

A knock on the door informed them their time was over, but neither moved.

"I'm going to miss you," Emily murmured, her index finger ghosting over his bottom lip.

Hotch sighed sadly and tightened his grip on her. "I already miss you."

"I'll see you soon," she whispered, leaning up and cupping his jaw, bringing him down for a salty, wet kiss, neither sure whose tears were the ones coating their joined lips.

"Sooner than we think," he added against her lips.

"I want to stay here… with you."

He paused for a moment before responding, just enjoying her lips hovering against his. "Even if I can't see you, you'll always be here with me. Always."

_A/N – Please take just a minute out to review! Thanks for reading!_


	4. Chapter 4

Hotch and Emily are undercover not long after Emily is back with the BAU. Will this be the thing that finally makes them talk about their could-have-been past? Story for SussiRay! Rated for sexiness and later chapters.

This is a story for SussiRay, who gave me the prompt 'undercover'. If you haven't read her stuff, you're _really _missing out!

**Warning – 18 and over **_**only**_** please. Sexual content. Light cursing.**

Hotch pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes for a moment, swallowing noticeably in order to retain some of his composure at the memory. It had felt like years since then now that she was back, but everyday he had relived that memory, never able to fully forget the way she smelled, how soft her lips had been against his own. He remembered her lithe body lying on top of him, how good she'd made him feel. After the initial physical response, he'd remember her words and the tone of her voice when she'd whispered how badly she wanted to stay with him.

"It killed me," he said, not realizing he muttered it aloud until she asked what he meant. He met her eyes. "When you said you wanted to stay with me. It killed me."

Her face fell, her eyes sad and full of sorrow. "I didn't want to make you feel bad," she said, gripping his hand tight.

He shook his head. "You were being honest," he pointed out. "No reason to apologize for being honest. Like I said, Emily, I wanted you to become reacquainted with things before I tried to pick up where we left off. Did I want to run up to you and hug you and kiss you and never let you go when you walked into my office a few months ago? Of course I did. I don't mean to say that this isn't mostly my fault, but you didn't come to me either."

Emily chewed her lower lip, knowing he was right. "No, I didn't," she agreed. "Can I tell you why?"

He nodded. "Please do."

She sighed. "I had been gone so long, and I'm sure you found out things about my… relationship with Doyle." At his nod, she continued. "You didn't say anything when I was in the hospital but I was worried that after the dust settled, you'd come to realize what a horrible person I was."

"I don't think that," he interrupted.

"I know you don't," she said with a sad smile. "But that was my fear coming back. I was so terrified you thought I was some whore who would do anything for a job. Or maybe I'd gone AWOL and too caught up in the life I'd been living to remember that I was doing my job."

"Did you?" he asked unthinkingly.

"Yes," she said bluntly, her shoulder rising and falling in a noncommittal shrug. "I've never said it aloud but I did get caught up with Ian and Declan."

"That's understandable," he said emotionlessly, even though his heart was clenching within his chest. It had been his worst fear, the thing in the back of his mind that he had only let take him over once or twice in the time she'd been gone. But hearing her admit it, to know she had realized it suddenly made it less hurtful. "I have no right to judge your actions, Emily. Not many people would have been able to stay completely focused when they lived with something like that every day. It's normal."

She nodded slowly. "I've profiled myself more often than you have," she said. "I know what I did was normal, but not acceptable. I fell for a man because I was Lauren, not Emily. I lost myself about a year in, especially because my contact with Clyde and Tsia was maybe once every few months at best. The things he told me just became daily things, too much to remember with nowhere to write them down. I adjusted accordingly to life as the girlfriend of a criminal. Eventually I stopped thinking of the things he was telling me as evidence, even though he barely said anything that set off red flags anyway."

"You did what you had to," Hotch reminded her, his thumb stroking the back of her hand.

Emily gave him a weak smile. "I'd like to think that's what it was. After he asked me to be Declan's mother, I snapped out of it. It wasn't just about him and I anymore, it was about being a mother to a child I didn't even know was his. I thought 'Who is this man?' and that forced me to remember that I wasn't Ian Doyle's Lauren, I was Interpol's biggest informer at the time. I met with Clyde, telling Ian that he was my cousin, and told him I needed to get out. It was only a few days after our meeting that they went in for the kill. Come to find out, they'd had enough information for months, they were just waiting on me to say the word. They thought I had stayed in because I was collecting information on crimes they didn't know about and I never corrected them."

"Why did you assume I'd think less of you?" he asked, unable to keep the hurt from his voice.

"Because I did," she replied quietly, shame clearly on her face. "It didn't hit me for a long time after, and I was afraid that's how it would be for you, too. You didn't ask me anything about Doyle when you came to the hospital. I was scared that you just hadn't had enough time to let it sink in yet. I was scared."

Hotch unconsciously moved toward her, sliding across the bathroom floor until he was sitting cross-legged beside her, still facing her. The hand not holding hers shook slightly as he reached up to tuck a strand of now-frizzy hair behind her ear.

"The way I felt around you was not something that could be overtaken by something you did years ago," he said firmly. "You being human rather than a coldhearted agent is something I admire you for. It tells me that not only are you strong, but at the end of the day you're still a woman. You'll always be Emily to me. Not Lauren, not a whore, not Ian Doyle's girlfriend. You're Emily Prentiss, the best agent, and the best friend I've ever had."

"I thought Reid was your best agent," she joked.

A wide smile lit Hotch's face, feeling the tension he hadn't realized was there leave immediately. "There's my Emily," he murmured, his fingers still playing with the few stray curls that were framing her face.

"I'm sorry I wasn't brave enough to talk to you." Her hand covered his, pressing his palm against her jaw.

"And I'm sorry I wasn't smart enough to know you weren't being yourself," he replied, his thumb running along the soft skin of her cheek, the scar he remembered surrounded by a purple bruise smaller and less noticeable now. "My God… you are so beautiful, Emily."

Hotch's voice was low and sensual, the deep baritone like velvet, caressing her ears and making her want to close her eyes in order to fully appreciate it. A blush colored her skin, a light pink staining her otherwise pale cheeks and neck. He rendered her speechless by ghosting his thumb over her lips, his eyes lighting with a fire she wasn't too familiar with as she parted her mouth, unable to help the low gasp that left her. Emily watched his eyes roam her face, fascinated by the way his brown eyes darkened to almost black when he unashamedly shifted them to her breasts, the black tank top not leaving much to his imagination.

"What's this?" he asked, his eyebrows pulling together, his forehead creasing with concern.

Emily stiffened when his fingers left her face, tracing over a small section of her breast that was uncovered. "Nothing," she replied, grabbing his wrist.

"It's something," he argued. "Is that… makeup?"

"Just leave it, please."

"Don't you trust me?" he asked, meeting her eyes again.

Her mouth fell open before closing, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth. Hotch's concern grew when moisture filled her eyes.

"Emily," he whispered, "don't close off. Please."

She nodded, slowly releasing his wrist. "It's makeup," she confirmed.

He moved slowly, as if making sudden movements would frighten her, and picked up the washcloth from the bathroom floor. Emily looked anywhere but him when she felt him bring it to her breast, moving her tank top over more in order to wipe away the makeup. His eyes stayed locked on the one spot, unable to comprehend exactly what he was uncovering. It was slightly raised, pink, and in the shape of a four leaf clover. He dropped the washcloth once he was certain all the makeup had been removed, freeing one hand to gently trace what he was sure was a brand.

"Doyle," Emily supplied after an immeasurable amount of time.

Hotch nodded in understanding, his nostrils flaring the only physical sign of his instant anger. He wanted to pull her into his arms, to coddle her and tell her how beautiful she was, but he knew if he moved, the anger would overflow and he'd be forced to leave the room so she wouldn't see it. Above anything, he wanted to protect her from everything, whether it be something that was clearly over, or from his quick temper that she'd surely take as something against her. Instead, he continued to trace the clover, no bigger than an inch by an inch, but it still made his fists beg to close and his heart clench painfully within his chest.

"Could you… could you please stop?" she asked, a slight edge to her voice.

"No," he replied simply. "It's a part of you, Emily."

"The worst part," she snapped. "I didn't want you to even see it, and here you are, _caressing_ it."

Hotch sighed. "You think I don't have scars? You think I don't look at myself in the mirror after a shower and want to shatter the reflection?"

Her eyebrows pulled together. "There's a difference, Hotch."

He tried to ignore the fact that she called him by his surname. "No, there isn't. We were both scarred against our will and that doesn't make us defective."

"I feel defective," she admitted.

"You're stunning," he murmured, his fingers still roaming along her scar. "Brand or no brand, you're stunning. This right here makes you no less perfect to me."

"I feel ugly," she persisted, as though she hadn't heard him. "I feel so ugly that I cover it up even if no one would be able to see it. I can't look at it."

"I understand," he said slowly. "But you need to come to terms with this someday, Emily, because otherwise you're just denying it ever happened."

Before she could reply, Hotch moved, shifting until he was once again on his knees beside her. Putting both hands on either side of her ribcage, he drew her closer, forcing her back to bow before a harsh gasp left her when she felt his lips on the brand.

"Feel that?" he asked, a surprised squeak leaving her as his tongue mixed in, blindly tracing her skin.

"Mmhmm," she managed, shock and desire clouding her ability to reply. Her hands gripped his strong upper arms, not knowing exactly how to respond to him.

"All I feel, all I taste," he mumbled between kisses and small licks, "is you, Em. Not Doyle." Lick. "Not a whore." Kiss. "Not a scar or brand." Lick. "Just _you_."

"I see what you're doing, I just –"

Hotch cut her off by pulling back abruptly, startling her. He sat back on his knees, unceremoniously ripping his shirt up and over his head, throwing it behind him without care.

"Tell me you find me ugly because of these," he demanded, gesturing to his torso.

Almost frightened to look away from his angry eyes, Emily held his gaze for another moment before doing as he had told her. Her hands covered her mouth as she took in his muscular chest and stomach, bypassing the small amount of dark hair littering his chest and focusing on what he'd intended her to see. Nine raised strips of skin stood out to her, begging her to reach out and cover them with her hands and mouth.

"Aaron," she breathed, her eyes lingering on a particularly long one right beside his bellybutton.

"Tell me," he repeated, not letting the use of his first name deter him from making a point. "Tell me you find me less of a man because of these."

She shook her head frantically.

"Tell me how it makes you feel to see me like this."

Emily spluttered for a moment. "I want to take them all away."

"Don't you think I felt horrified with myself when I'd look into the mirror?" he asked. "Don't you think I found it almost impossible to keep my eyes open when I'd change my shirt or take a shower? I don't want you to have that pain, Emily. I don't want you to see or feel anything other than wanted and needed and beautiful."

Emily suddenly understood. When he'd touched her, he was identifying with her mental pain, trying to show her that it was nothing more than a scar, not a memory that she needed to cover up. It was her that he wanted, no matter the things that were on her skin. He had been trying to take away the pain that had come with the brand, to give her a new sensation to remember rather than the scorching heat that had come with the metal instrument some six months ago.

"I love you," she blurted, the words slightly muffled by her hands.

Hotch's eyes went wide as saucers, a laugh building in his throat when he watched the shocked look on Emily's face in reaction to her confession. As if in slow motion, he grabbed one of Emily's hands, guiding it to his chest, pressing her open hand over his heart with both of his.

"Feel that?" he asked. She nodded dumbly, not able to understand why she had just said what he did. "That, Emily, is for you."

Concentrating on her hand, she felt his heart racing, easily above normal.

"I feel like this whenever I'm around you," he explained. "I feel like I'm a kid; my heartbeat goes up, I get nervous, my palms sweat. I'm happy around you. When you were gone I felt lost, like I was missing a part of me and I came to realize that there isn't a single doubt in my mind about how I feel, even before you left. I love you, too."

"Will you do me a favor?" she asked.

"Anything," he replied instantly.

"Kiss me."

_A/N – I adore every single review, so please take just a moment out and let me know what you thought of this chapter! Thanks for reading!_


	5. Chapter 5

Hotch and Emily are undercover not long after Emily is back with the BAU. Will this be the thing that finally makes them talk about their could-have-been past? Story for SussiRay! Rated for sexiness and later chapters.

This is a story for **SussiRay**, who gave me the prompt 'undercover'. If you haven't read her stuff, you're _**really**_missing out!

Just wanted to take a moment to thank both **fanficlover** (who seriously needs to make an account so all of us authors can thank you profusely) and **SSAEmilyHotchner** for leaving me the two most amazing reviews I've received in the CM fandom. I read them back-to-back and was nearly sobbing happy tears by the end of them. Seriously, you have _no_ idea what those reviews meant to me.

**Warning – 18 and over **_**only**_** please. Detailed sexual content. Light cursing.**

Not needing to be told twice, Hotch cupped her face, leaning forward while tipping her head up. He paused before meeting her lips, enjoying the view from so close. Emily's cheeks were flushed, her eyes fluttering between open and closed, her mouth parted, waiting for his. With tortured slowness, his thumbs stroked her cheeks as he inched closer, his eyes sliding to half-mast. His focus shifted solely to her plump lips, his intent more than clear.

Emily, never the patient one, sighed unhappily. "Please, Aaron."

What was before going to be a soft, gentle kiss was thrown to the wayside with the use of his first name. Hotch dove right in, his mouth rendering her completely immobile as it easily covered her own. He prodded her lips apart with his tongue, not asking, but _demanding_ entrance. She finally responded, pressing back against his lips for a moment and parting hers for his exploration. Unable to stay still now, Emily slid her arms around his middle, tugging him closer as her tongue brushed his on its way into his mouth, searching every inch she could reach, his all-but-forgotten taste making her hungry for more.

It was messy and sloppy, neither quite prepared for the franticness that consumed them both, but they didn't stop to question it nor slow down. Hotch's hands soon left her face, making a fast trail down to the hem of her tank top. He slipped past the material, smirking as she gasped and shivered beneath his curious hands. He caressed her flat stomach, marveling at the smoothness of it, his left hand staying still just long enough to circle her bellybutton with his index finger. She giggled quietly into his mouth, drawing a short laugh in return from the man attached to her lips.

"Ticklish?" he asked, pulling away from her briefly, enjoying the disapproving noise that rattled around in her throat.

She shook her head. "Just gave me goosebumps," she explained.

He gave her a look that clearly said 'yeah, right'. "I'll investigate that later," he mumbled, leaving a path of small kisses down one side of her jaw before dropping off and latching onto the creamy skin of her neck.

"Oh," she sighed, tilting her head to the side to give him better access.

"Like that, huh?" he asked, not bothering to wait for a response as he continued sucking at her pulse point.

"Uh huh," she confirmed, her shoulders relaxing noticeably but her body heated up courtesy of his persistent mouth, moving up just slightly, nipping at a particularly sensitive are just below her ear.

Hotch left his hands flat on her stomach, too focused on his task to move. However, Emily's hands began rubbing his back, one going up while the other went down. Her nails were short, but just long enough to cause him to shudder when she scraped them along his warm skin. She felt every muscle flex beneath her hands as he pressed closer, drawing her torso up to full height as he molded his front to hers.

"You're wearing entirely too many layers," he muttered against her neck, his tongue making a broad stroke to her earlobe.

"I'm not wearing anything beneath," she breathed, clutching his back when he bit down again.

"That's so sexy," he panted, images of a naked Emily flashing before him.

His hands were suddenly no longer dormant, a strong want to feel her without barriers making him tug at her top, urging her to raise her arms so he could remove it. She obliged, reluctantly leaning away from his talented mouth in order to lift her arms in the air, her shirt instantly being brought up and over her head and arms.

"Holy shit," he gasped, gazing unabashed at her now-bare torso. "You are more beautiful than I imagined."

He didn't notice her deep blush, instead too focused on her supple, full bust with small, rose-colored nipples that were puckered to hard peaks, just screaming for his attention. Not able to take just looking anymore, he covered the mounds with his hands, enjoying the feel of her warm flesh beneath his palms. Emily let out a harsh breath, not expecting the simple touch to set her ablaze with desire. Her chest rose and fell heavily, pressing her breasts harder against his hands with every intake of air. Hotch watched her face with rapt attention, his index fingers working in tandem, gently rubbing circles around her areolas. Without warning, he rolled them between his thumb and pointer fingers, his mouth falling open as he watched her face contort with pleasure.

"Aaron," she breathed out, wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him close.

Hotch met her halfway, their lips pressing together roughly, his hands not able to stay still as she bit into his bottom lip. His hands reluctantly left her breasts, his arms snaking around her middle in order to mold himself against her. Matching groans left them as their bare torsos pressed together, the feel of skin on skin nearly enough to make Emily strip him down and take him right there on the bathroom floor. Hotch relished the way her breasts formed against his chest, her hardened nipples brushing along his skin when she shifted even closer. Pulling away, Emily heaved in a few deep breaths before putting her cheek to his, her lips hovering only a hair away from his ear. Her tongue traced it, loving the shiver that raced down his spine when she gently blew on it.

"Stand up," she whispered.

He quirked an eyebrow at her, the question he was about to ask never leaving him as Emily covered his lips with hers in a searing kiss, her tongue roughly sliding between his teeth making him forget what he was going to ask.

"Stand up," she repeated, breaking the kiss as quickly as it had started.

Hotch nodded slowly, his mind clouded over with lust as he took a glance at her before rising. He offered her his hand, but she shook her head, instead pushing it out of her way as both of hers began undoing his brown leather belt. He watched in stunned silence as she hurriedly unfastened his jeans, the zipper following barely a second later. She palmed his through the denim, a surprised groan leaving his throat.

"Emily," he managed between harsh intakes of breath, the level of oxygen in the room seemingly becoming less and less as she continued to rub his arousal, marveling at his reactions.

"Sorry," she muttered, but he could tell she wasn't that sorry at all.

"Come up here," he murmured, placing his hands on her arms and tugging her up.

She went somewhat reluctantly, allowing him to help her to her feet. Hotch scorched a path along her neck, his open mouth and tongue ravaging every square inch of skin he could reach.

"You taste so good," he mumbled between small love bites by her pulse point.

Emily half-moaned, half-sighed her acknowledgement of his statement, her previous steady hands beginning to fumble with his pants the longer he continued his ministrations of her neck. After what felt like hours, she finally managed to push his pants down, his boxers thankfully going along with them. The slow torture on her heated skin made her blood boil and shoot straight to her stomach, her brain clouding over to the point of near-incoherency. As Hotch kicked away the garments that had pooled at his feet, she suddenly remembered what she had planned to do earlier. With a smirk on her face, she pulled away from him and lowered herself back to the ground.

As she dropped to her knees, Hotch realized too late what she was about to do. His ability to speak was taken from him as Emily's elegant fingers brushed along his shaft, making him shiver and moan. She teased him, her thumb stroking his tip, her nails gently scratching along his thick length, and was pleased when his hands threaded into her hair. She heard his silent plea and decided to take mercy on him.

"Shit," he gasped as he watched her wet her lips only seconds before they wrapped around his pulsing cock.

His hands threaded deeper into her slightly stiff hair, even though the hairspray starting to wear off, making her hair frizz in a manner that Hotch found oddly sexy. He pulled her hair from her face, having pictured this moment so many times in his head, knowing that there would be nothing more perfect than to see her as clearly as possible. His hips bucked against his will at the sight of her, the motion forcing him deeper into her hot, wet mouth, but she didn't miss a beat; she sucked him harder, allowing his length to slide further between her plump lips, the tip of his manhood gliding nearly halfway down her throat before she pulled away. Her nose was tickled by his small amount of dark pubic hair on her next pass down his engorged tool, her jaw beginning to ache with the position, but the guttural moan that left him kept her going.

"E-Emily," he said breathlessly, "you have to… stop. Oh, God."

A disapproving noise rattled in her throat, sending a vibration down his cock and straight to his balls, a familiar heat spreading through his torso. He gripped her hair to the point of causing her pain but she relished it, ate it up, knowing the fact she had made him so animalist only driving her to suck him faster, harder. She tongued the mushroomed head of his cock, lapping messily at the precum leaking from his tip. Her teeth grazed the top of his steel-like shaft as her tongue raked across the bottom as she took him as far down her throat as she could, staying impossibly still as to not gag.

"Emily, I can't… I want… Oh, fuck, Emily… I'm going to…"

With a devilish smirk she wrapped her hand around the base of his erection, timing the up and down motions of her hand with her mouth, begging him to finish the way she had dreamed of so many times. Her jaw slackened as she felt him tense, his hard cock pulsing as spurts of thick, hot cum filled her mouth. She swallowed all that she could, not releasing his slackening member until she was sure she had cleaned off every drop. Emily held him in her hand, lazily licking him top to bottom and side to side, enjoying the harsh pants that were issuing from the man who had always held so tightly to his reactions. Nothing was held back as she greedily licked her lips and the side of her hand, which held the last few traces of his release. Not having the words to voice what he wanted, he tugged on her hair, indicating that he wanted her to stand.

"Amazing," he breathed out, drawing her to him as she stood to full height, his lips capturing hers in a steamy kiss.

His hands shook slightly as they went to her shorts, making it quite a bit more difficult to unbutton them as quickly as he wanted. He shoved his hands beneath the material once he unzipped them, wasting no time in cupping in her firm ass, pressing her hard against him. She moaned into his mouth, her tongue wrapped around his, as he roughly pulled her last layer of clothing down her legs, leaving her to stumble around in order to get them off. With surprising speed, Hotch turned them, barely giving her time to regain her footing before molding his front to her back, his hands slinking around to gently caress her flat stomach.

"Aaron, what are you," she started, but he cut her off by sweeping her hair to the side with his face and sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of her shoulder.

"I plan to give you the best orgasm of your life," he informed her, his fingers exploring her abdomen, enjoying the softness of her skin.

"I wish you good luck," she giggled, but then moaned as he bit roughly into her neck.

_A/N – I know, I know, it's mean of me to stop there, but I just wanted to get this posted for Sussi, as I had promised some serious smut quite awhile ago. Please take just a moment out to let me know what you think of this chapter! Thanks!_


	6. Chapter 6

Hotch and Emily are undercover not long after Emily is back with the BAU. Will this be the thing that finally makes them talk about their could-have-been past? Story for SussiRay! Rated for sexiness and later chapters.

This is a story for SussiRay, who gave me the prompt 'undercover'. If you haven't read her stuff, you're _really _missing out! Sussi, I hope this is smutty enough for ya!

**Warning – 18 and over **_**only**_** please. Extremely descriptive sexual content.**

Hotch's fingers skimmed over her belly, his touch as light as a feather. Goosebumps rose on her arms and she shivered, making a low chuckle sound from behind her.

"Ticklish?" he asked again.

Emily shook her head. "Feels good," she corrected.

"Mmm, maybe I'll just stay right here," he said, running his fingers over her hipbones, purposefully staying above where her pants usually sat.

"No, that's okay," she panted. "You can move."

"Up, perhaps?" he asked.

He didn't wait for a response as he trailed his hands higher, watching her face in the mirror as it contorted in pleasure as he cupped her shapely breasts, his hands not quite able to cover them all. He squeezed them, pressing his palms harder against her supple mounds, his fingers digging in just enough for it to hurt.

"Yes," she hissed, her head falling back to rest on his shoulder.

"Feel good?" he asked huskily.

"So good," she breathed out, arching back slightly, trying to urge him to grip harder.

"Like it rough, do you?" he growled, tightening his hold enough to bruise, but neither were concerned as Emily cried out a resounding yes.

Emily rotated her hips, her perfectly rounded ass gyrating against Hotch's slowly hardening cock. He pushed against her, following her lead as he continued to massage her breasts. Her mouth fell into a small 'O' when he used two deft fingers to find her puckered nipples. He rolled them, pinching down until she shuddered with sheer pleasure, harsh pants leaving her mouth, a sound that Aaron thought could get him off without her laying a single finger on him. He plucked her nipples, watching in the mirror as her breasts went this way and that – any way _he _wanted. He groaned when she screamed as he licked both his pointer and index fingers before hurriedly bringing them back to her rose-colored nipples, rubbing the moisture around in fast circles.

"Aaron!" she cried, slamming against him, needing more but not having the coherency to form words, let alone an entire sentence

In a flurry of pent up lust, he dipped one hand to her legs, roughly wedging it between her thighs, which were already quivering.

"Good Lord, Emily, you're so damn wet," he growled, cupping her slick mound.

"I blame you," she moaned as he applied pressure to where she ached for him.

Hotch's fingers brushed against her opening, her readiness leaking out to wet his hand. He watched her grind against him and he couldn't help but groan at the sight of her, his cock springing to a full erection. Hotch retracted his hand slightly, the tips of his fingers staying to gently stroke her soaked opening. Emily arched against him, a loud cry leaving her as he collected her juices before sliding them around her aching folds and up to her clit. Wanting to feel more of her, he carefully pressed a finger into her, gasping at just how tight and wet she was.

"Oh, Aaron," she moaned.

"I love watching your reactions," he growled, purposefully dipping his finger further into her soaked core, making a wide circle before retracting it to rub her swollen button again.

Emily moved slightly, making her stance wider, wanting him to know how badly she needed him. Hotch's obvious hard-on, which had been resting against the back of her thigh, shifted with her, pressing against the supple flesh of her ass. She pressed against it, wanting nothing more than for it to fill her to the hilt, to slide in and out of her at a pace that would bring her to completion. He sensed this, but wasn't quite ready to give in yet. He bent at the knees, reluctantly removing his drenched finger from her and allowed his jutting erection to easily go between her legs.

Hotch pumped his hips a few times, nestling himself between her moist folds. He could see as well as feel the glistening tip of his fully erect cock as it slid wetly between Emily's thighs. He reached around her once again, his hand going between her legs and pressing his arousal more against her slickened pussy, both letting out identical moans. The mushroomed tip of his dick pressed against her opening, causing her to loosen her stance, bending slightly at the waist, offering herself to him.

"Fuck, Emily," he ground out. "You're so fucking _wet_."

He pumped the head of his manhood through her moist pussy lips, teasing her until she was ready to come apart at the seams. He brushed her sensitive clit over and over, liquid heat building in her stomach until it boiled to the point of exploding.

"Aaron," she cried. "Aaron… Oh God…"

One hand on her hip, the other sliding down his erection, he pressed into her, her walls enveloping around him as he hit bottom, Emily's scream near deafening. Her entire body trembled as she felt him pierce her, filling and stretching her so deliciously she couldn't stop the orgasm that hit her so suddenly it shocked her. Her impossibly tight walls clenched down around him and he held her hips, concerned that her knees would cave. He quickly wrapped an arm around her waist and bent over her, holding her close as she convulsed in a way that made his stomach lurch with pleasure.

"Yes!" she screamed, delirious with lust. "Fuck me, Aaron, fuck me!"

Hotch pulled her hips back, stepping away from her just a bit so she could bend over more. He slammed into her, gritting his teeth in order to retain just an ounce or two of control. His hips and abdomen slapped against her ass, the noise of it overpowering the still-humming fan. Emily held onto the sink for dear life as her body continued to shake with what felt like a never-ending orgasm. Hotch felt her practically gushing around his swollen arousal, and he couldn't help but to look down to where their bodies were connected. He let out a feral groan when he saw his thick girth pounding into her tight, willing body, his shaft covered in her juices.

"So sexy," he breathed out, not actually intending to say it aloud.

"Aaron," she whimpered, her mind clearing as her orgasm finally died down.

Hotch immediately stopped, buried deep within her sopping core, his torso molding against her back, their breathing labored.

"Are you alright?" he asked, placing a soft kiss on her shoulder.

Emily closed her eyes and nodded. "More than alright. Could we… take this to the other room?" she asked sheepishly. "My legs are about to give out."

"Mine, too," he admitted.

With a hefty amount of reluctance, Hotch pulled away from her, smirking as she made a sound of dissatisfaction when he fully exited her warmth. He turned her around, tenderly brushing her hair from her forehead and tucking it behind her ear. He cupped her face, tilting it up so she had to meet his eyes. A bright smile appeared on her beautiful face, which was quickly mirrored by Hotch. He kissed her gently, wanting to savor the feel and taste of her now that some of the franticness had worn off. He planned to worship her body, to take her nice and slow, to relish the feel of her as he'd always hoped to do.

"Come to bed with me," he murmured against her lips.

Emily giggled. "That's so cliché."

"Would it be cliché to tell you that you feel amazing and I love you?" he asked, not giving her time to respond as he pressed his lips to hers.

She pulled back, looking up into his eyes. "Not at all," she said, her hands trailing up and down his bare sides. "I love you, too. And believe me when I say you feel _more_ than amazing."

He chuckled and kissed her chastely before turning and walking out of the bathroom, an un-Hotch-like yelp leaving him as Emily grabbed his ass.

"Oh, you are going to pay," he said.

Emily screamed cutely as Hotch grabbed her around the waist, lifting her up in his arms and throwing her onto the bed. She bounced slightly, her hair haloing around her on the pillow, her legs unconsciously spreading in order to welcome him as he climbed on the bed. She reached for him, but he caught her wrists, placing a gentle kiss on each of her palms before putting her hands on either side of her on the bed. He grabbed her right ankle and kissed it, watching her watch him. Realization donned on her as he began placing calculated kisses up her calf.

"Aaron," she said, "you don't have to."

"I want to," he assured her, licking a particularly delicious part of her thigh. "And you're going to like it, money back guaranteed."

_A/N – I know, I know, I'm not nice. Leave me a review telling me that if you so feel the need. Either way, reviews are amazing and I'd be forever grateful. _


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